Twisted Hearts
by Dreams2Paper11
Summary: A series of one-shots pertaining to Robin and Slade. One-shot #5: Slade knows how to get under Robin's skin. Since Starfire has been rather distant since the "Red X" idea, whoever shall our poor bird confide in? Well... Raven doesn't really mind... RobRae one-shot with Slade included, which makes it that much more awesome.
1. Crayons and Scribbles

**Okay, so I've decided to start a bunch of unrelated onshots pertaining to my most favorite people in the world: Slade and Robin. In your reviews, I would appreciate it if you left me a few oneshot ideas that you would like to see. I already have a few, but I'm willing to write yours.**

**Btw, I don't write slash -_-**

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

He was coloring.

Robin, the fearless leader of the powerful Teen Titans, the Boy Wonder, was _coloring_, as in, with crayons and on sheets of crisp white computer paper.

Slade decided that this was plausible, considering how the boy had been de-aged after an encounter with the magical thief, Mumbo. Now, he looked somewhere between six or seven, and he was dressed in one of the green changeling's white shirts that had presumably shrunk in the wash, but even then, the shirt came down to the boy's knees and the sleeves stretched to his elbows. Black sweat pants, also one of the changeling's, hid the child's legs and feet (and a good portion of the surrounding floor) in baggy, loose folds. His raven black hair, normally gelled back and carefully styled into points, now messily tumbled down the boy's head in slightly wavy locks, framing his angelic face. His face itself was younger and rounder, lacking the stress and worry lines. In fact, the only thing about this-this _child_ that even remotely resembled the Robin that Slade was familiar with was the intimidating, black-rimmed domino mask that hid his eyes as usual.

Oh, and the grumpy scowl plastered across his young face as he stared straight at Slade after putting down his crayon.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" Little Robin's voice was higher and slightly sour. Slade suspected this was because the Titans had dropped him off at their Tower before resuming their chase, hunting down Mumbo.

But the boy didn't recognize him? A memory issue, now that _was_ a delightful surprise. Slade had infiltrated the Tower, originally intending to re-bug Titan's Tower. Imagine his surprise when he saw a little boy sitting on one of the kitchen stools, his face twisted in grim determination as he scribbled. Slade's lips curled into a smirk underneath his mask and he swiftly pulled out a chair from the counter and sat down, meeting the level gaze of his long time rival.

"Relax," he said, gently and soothingly, and he watched as Little Robin's tense posture faded a little, almost subconsciously at the mere sound of his voice. A devilish grin replaced the smirk tugging at his mouth. "I'm just here to talk."

Little Robin tipped his head to the side slightly, the white lenses of his mask round and young, not slanted in barely veiled rage like normal.

"…I know you," Little Robin started out, somewhat uncertainly, and Slade stiffened almost imperceptibly. He'd been counting on the child not recognizing who he was…

"Oh! I know!"

Little Robin twisted in his seat and grabbed a stack of computer paper. All the sheets looked like they had been colored on. Slade watched silently as Little Robin rummaged through them, searching for something, before he grasped the corner of a piece of paper and pulled it out of the pile.

"There!" He beamed, slapping the paper down so that Slade could see the drawing. Slade froze. And stared. And had the urge to break down in hysterical laughter or just burn the piece of paper to bits.

There, smack dab in the middle of the sheet, was a crude drawing of Slade himself.

It was obviously done by a child's hand, and as Slade gingerly lifted it up to get a closer look, he noticed many large rounded bumps on the drawing's arms. He put the paper down and tapped them with a gloved finger.

"…What are these?"

Robin scrunched up his eyebrows and gave Slade a '_wow you must be really stupid, I pity you'_ kind of look and dragged the paper back towards his little body.

"Muscles," he stated in reply, his tone very matter-of-factly, and picked up his crayon box, popping open the folded lid and peering into it as he quested for colors.

Slade sat there, unsure of what to feel for a few seconds. A lesser man would have burst out laughing. Slade was not a lesser man. He shook his head slightly as logic overtook him. "Why did you draw me? I thought you couldn't remember anything," he hunted for information, careful to keep his tone pleasant and warm and inviting.

Little Robin gave him that look again, and Slade watched as he started to swing his feet absently, his toes thumping lightly against the side of the kitchen counter.

"I don't," he explained patiently as he pulled three crayons out of the box: gray, black, and orange. "I really can't 'member anything, 'cept waking up with those weird people standing over me. But when I draw, my hand moves on its own and starts makin' pictures an' stuff, so I just let it go."

He puffed up with pride as he nodded towards the paper with the Slade drawing and added, "That was the first one I did." He picked up the black crayon and started filling in Slade's jumpsuit, leaving half his mask and his armor attachments blank.

"I see."

"An I drewed him, _you_, firs' because I knew you an' that makes me feel better, an' I think you know me too." Little Robin paused, peering up at him innocently, and asked, "Are we friends?"

Slade blanked. How the heck was he supposed to respond to that? 'Oh yes, I terrorized your city, forced you to become my apprentice and steal, made one of your teammates betray you and destroy half your town, and helped bring a demon king to power again. We're best friends.'

In reality, he replied coolly, "...Something like that."

Robin nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Good, 'cause you're cool."

Slade wondered if Robin had also been drugged when he was de-aged. If someone had told him earlier that day that he would be carrying on a conversation, calmly, with his young (literally) enemy, he would have told that person that he was crazy, and then proceeded to hurt them.

Slade watched Little Robin quietly as he finished with the black and picked up the metallic gray, coloring Slade's armor and utility belt. Slade's calculating brain noted how Robin rotated his wrist in fast, long, sweeping strokes as he scribbled, much like the way a young child colored. Had his motor skills also regressed?Little Robin pursed his lips when he unintentionally went outside the black lines he had drawn and reached for the obsidian-colored crayon to add more thickness to them, accidentally knocking the box of crayons onto the floor as he stretched out his arm. He slid off his chair and stooped to pick them up and set the box back on the table, whereupon he ended up knocking the drawing off of the table as well. Slade bit his lip to stop an amused smile from spreading across his face at the child's struggles. He was obviously not accompanied to his vastly different body.

Slade bent and retrieved the fallen piece of paper, proffering to the boy, who nodded his thanks and went back to coloring, seemingly drawing another figure next to the sketch of Slade.

Slade leaned back on the stool. He knew that, if he wanted, he could kill the boy right then and there. Just one second, and one of his greatest and worthiest opponents would be gone for good.

But he knew he couldn't do it. He would be stooping to a whole new low if he attacked and killed his enemy while he was defenseless and weak. No, if Robin was to die, Slade wanted them to be on equal footing. He wanted to pin the boy beneath his heavy combat boot and reach down and peel the mask off his face and watch the life fade out of his eyes, watch all that _limitless potential _go to waste.

Little Robin suddenly stood up and yawned cutely, rubbing one of his eyes beneath the mask, abandoning his work. Slade watched him as he nearly swayed on his feet.

"'M gonna sleep now, 'cause I'm really sleepy," he announced. Slade nodded seriously.

"Makes sense."

Without another word, Little Robin turned and padded over to the large, U-shaped couch. In a startling display of acrobatic prowess, he performed a handstand on the back of the sofa and flipped forward onto the cushions, grabbing a nearby woolen blanket and spreading it over himself. He buried his head into the armrest and closed his eyes.

In mere seconds, Slade could hear soft, little rumbling snores coming from the couch. He stood, stretched leisurely, almost cat-like, and fished a few tiny, undetectable cameras out of one of the pockets of his utility belt, proceeding to keep a close eye on Little Robin's slumbering form as he bugged the room. Robin had cleansed the Tower of all his cameras after the Terra incident, and he didn't like not being able to spy on his enemies at will.

He finished quickly and stood over the sleeping child, debating internally on whether he should kidnap the boy then and there. At a young age, and with no memories to twist his mind, he would be relatively easy to convert into a loyal apprentice. Strangely, this thought left Slade feeling dissatisfied. He wanted a challenge. He wanted the thrill of breaking Robin and then piecing him back together in a totally new person.

Sighing, he folded his arms over the edge of the couch and reached out to run his cold, gloved fingers through the child's tangled locks. A contented sigh passed Little Robin's lips and he nuzzled the hand slightly with his head, leaning into the touch. Slade chuckled, straightened, and removed his hand, listening as Little Robin let out an unconscious, anxious whimper, almost a whine.

"One day," he whispered, his voice deep and filled with ominous promise, "you _will _submit to me," he began backing into the shadows, heading for the Tower exit, "and Jump City _will_ be mine."

The door slid noiselessly shut, and Robin was alone.

Later that night, the rest of the Titans trooped in, exhausted from the long chase, with a bound and gagged Mumbo in tow. As Starfire soared over to where Little Robin lay, curled in a ball and sleeping soundly, Cyborg trudged over to the kitchen, fully intent on grabbing something to eat from the fridge. As he passed the counter, he noticed numerous white sheets, all scribbled on. He paused, and then headed over to them, sorting them into a neat pile. He smiled when he saw the first one: a picture of Robin and his team. The doodles resembling Cyborg and Beast Boy both looked very angry, and Cyborg was holding something above his head in his hand: a red tangle of scribbles. Upon closer inspection, he noticed very messy letters above the red splotch. They read, "METE". Beast Boy was also holding something; a pale cube that was labeled, "TOEFOO". Cyborg's smile grew wider as he thumbed through the pictures. The majority of them were about the Titans. A few even seemed to include Batman. Cyborg reached the last picture and as he held it up to see it better, his human flesh paled considerably and the picture slipped from his grasp, floating gently down to the floor, face-up.

On the sheet, Robin had doodled himself, in russet orange and black and gray. A big smile, so big it stretched off his face, was drawn on his face. Next to him, a much taller, broader form, also in orange, black, and gray, stood with his hand resting on Robin's shoulder.

Cyborg felt nauseas and he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter tightly. There was no mistaking that Little Robin had drawn the horrifying, terrible picture.

"_GUYS!"_

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

**Read and review! Tell me what Slade or Robin oneshots or twoshots you would like to see. Keep in mind that I don't write slash, AT ALL.**

**And yes, I know Robin was OOC. But remember, he was de-aged and had no memories. Slade showed no obvious ill intent towards him, so Robin didn't have a reason to dislike him. The point of this one-shot is to reveal how Robin hides his deepest, darkest, desires, which, ultimately, (in this one-shot) was to earn someone's approval. (which is where Slade comes into the picture.)**

**Until next time!**

**-Dreamy**


	2. Deadly Addiction

Hello, dear readers! Yes, I am back so soon. Don't get used to it. -_- Sadly I am a sporadic writer T_T But reviews are my incentive…;)

**Special thanks to Thaliag.2 and DickGraysonFan for reviewing! Thaliag.2, you were my first reviewer, so this one's dedicated to you.**

One-shot #2: Deadly Addiction

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

He would never admit it, but he secretly looked forward to their battles. He always learned something from them, either a unique fighting maneuver that his enemy had used, or how to take apart and put back together his robots, or even the limits of his own body and how to blast past them.

He would never admit it, but he was slightly, slightly, _slightly _proud of the way he had been singled out. It made him feel worthy. It felt good being acknowledged again. After the way Batman had ignored him, verbally shot him down, told him he wasn't good enough…

The gleam he sometimes saw in his enemy's eye made him suspect that he knew this.

**.**

**.**

**.**

…And then came Terra. Stupid, weak, pathetic, needy-Robin closed his eyes and shook his head to stop the train of thought. He shouldn't think like that. Not after the way she sacrificed her life for the city.

…When they laid the bouquet of flowers at the foot of her statue, Robin kept his face carefully blank. He couldn't let Beast Boy see the smug satisfaction, the way he lingered for just a second after the others turned to leave so he could mouth, _See? I was stronger. I am stronger. You were nothing but a tool._

…He felt awful about it for a while after that, but he learned to push aside the guilt so he could focus on his hero work.

**.**

**.**

.

…He felt…_hurt. _Slade had been his mortal enemy, his rival, the person who terrified him and could make him fly into an uncontrollable rage with just one word. In battle, they went straight to each other. He never challenged the other Titans. It was always Robin, or at least it had been, until _Terra-_he spat the name in his head as if it were poison-came along and ruined everything. Robin told himself he hated it, he hated that he had caught the man's attention, and that he was glad his enemy had finally turned his sight on someone else.

It was a lie.

.

**.**

**.**

He felt like trash. Was he worthless? Weak? Stupid? He must be, because he had been kicked to the curb without even a sparing glance. His green-gloved fists tightened in anger, and a vicious snarl bubbled in his throat as he stared at the terrifying, haunting mask mounted on his wall, right across his bed. He saw it every night before he fell asleep. He told himself that he put it there to get him used to his fear and overcome it by constant exposure.

It was a lie.

**.**

**.**

**.**

He was beginning to drive himself sick with it. He became more obsessed than ever before, pulling all-nighters regularly, just to find some clue that **he** was still _alive_. He couldn't-wouldn't-believe it. **He** couldn't just be…gone, like that. She, of all people, couldn't have killed him. It just wasn't possible.

He didn't eat as much as he used to. He simply didn't have the time. Every minute, every precious _second_, needed to be spent looking for him, looking for evidence, clues…

When the other Titans questioned him about why he had been visiting Terra's cave regularly, the place where she had turned to stone and he had 'died', he told them it was to pay respects to their lost teammate.

It was a lie.

**.**

**.**

**.**

He couldn't stop himself. He kept heading downstairs to the basement at odd hours in the night to rifle through the evidence again. He was careful never to let the Titans see him, so he was greatly surprised when Cyborg found him and tried to stop him. He got angry, but he hid it behind his impassive mask. How dare he tell him to stop looking for him? As if **he** were really dead…

Later that night, words could not describe the thrill that ran through his heart when he saw him dashing through the trees, rain pounding the ground around them, flashes of lightning illuminating the dark forest briefly.

He felt _alive _again.

The gleam in his opponent's eye told him he knew exactly what he was feeling.

When his broken and beaten body lay on the ground, halfway curled up at the foot of the basement steps, he reveled in the pain and barely kept the smile off his face as his enemy advanced. _Finally. _Slade was looking at him again, noticing him, fighting _him_ and _him_ alone…

Robin spat some blood out and tried to drag himself away. He suddenly felt a little confused, and wanted some space to sit back a moment and sort his dizzy thoughts out. When the metallic clang of the footsteps followed him, and the cold gloved hand reached down and pulled him up by the front of his tunic, he couldn't stop the little shudder of fear and excitement that rippled through his very soul when the man whispered in his ear, _"You were alone without me, weren't you, Robin?"_

He was dropped roughly to the ground, the impact jarring his hurt and bruised body, and he cried out in pain, glaring weakly at the man, feigning rage and hatred.

It was a lie.

**.**

**.**

**.**

And then, he realized, with sickening clarity, that it wasn't real. That he was doing this to himself.

"_I'm real enough to finish you!" _The shade, the imposter, roared as he flung himself towards the boy. Robin only wished it was true. His spirit felt broken. He had hoped, he had thought it was real…

He flicked the lights on with a feeling of despair and longing and watched the imposter dissipate into nothingness. Later, at night, after his wounds had been treated, he told himself that he only felt that way because he wanted a chance to beat the _real_ Slade.

It was a lie.

**.**

**.**

**.**

So many lies…so many nights spent awake and obsessing…

His performance began to worsen, along with his health. He was far too skinny, far too pale, far too easily thrown around like a rag doll by the other villains, far too weak, _far too unworthy_…

Robin, for some reason, couldn't stand to imagine how disappointed Slade would feel in him.

_No,_ Robin told himself fiercely, his body still shaking as the latest round of vomit had passed, _I don't feel alone. I don't need him. I don't want his approval. I don't. I don't._

The anguish and loneliness welled up inside and his stomach seized up. He threw up again.

_I don't need him. I don't need him._

It was a-well, you get the picture.

**.**

**.**

**.**

He had been overjoyed when he fought the real Slade again. He was at the point where it didn't matter if Slade only had eyes (or, more correctly, an eye) for Raven; at least he was _there_, this time. Not just in his head.

He fought with the raw viciousness of a cornered wolf. He pushed himself past his limits, desperately, yet subtly trying to catch his eye, as if to say, _Look! Look, I've gotten better. Don't you see me? DON'T YOU SEE ME?_

He was in heaven when he was down in hell with him. Slade had been forced to look at him, talk with him, _fight alongside of him-_

Nothing had ever felt so right. The way they moved together fluidly, in perfect sync. It was simply exhilarating, nirvana. Robin went euphoric from the sheer beauty of it. He struck high, Slade went low. He struck down a fire demon that was rearing over Slade's shoulder; Slade slammed one that had been creeping up on him. Robin closed his eyes for a second as they fought together, simply basking in its unity. He hadn't fought this way with a partner since…since…_Batman. _He was almost sickened by how happy he was. A little part of his mind screamed out, _'Look at yourself! What is wrong with you, what are you doing? You're acting like a beaten dog crawling back to its master!'_

"Master…" the murmured word slipped out of his lips. He had never realized how beautiful the word was, the way it tasted so delicious on his tongue…

"What was that, Robin?" Slade asked, pausing to turn and stare at him with a slightly, ever so slightly widened eye. Robin flushed a little bit and walked forward stiffly.

"Nothing, just thinking."

Lie.

**.**

**.**

**.**

After the whole Trigon incident, Robin's obsession was fueled to a new frenzy. He became so physically sick that the other Titans forced him to stay home on some of the rougher missions. He was having nightmares, too. Nightmares that Slade was too disgusted to even look at him, nightmares that he was too weak, too stupid…

At some point, Robin realized that he was slowly killing himself. If it was true, that he was _weak, _then he should be trying to get stronger.

Training became the focus of his life.

He trained every day until he collapsed from exhaustion and one of the other Titans had to carry him back to his room. He trained and trained and trained until his muscles swelled out again, his face lost its waxy pale look, and he became faster and stronger than ever. During this time, he hit a huge growth spurt, now that his body was finally getting the proper nutrition it needed. He shot up inches, until he was taller than Starfire (this relieved him greatly), and his shoulders broadened until he finally lost much of his small, slender build and could only be considered as muscular and lean. So great was his newfound strength and skill, he usually had the villain beaten and handcuffed before the other Titans even arrived on the scene.

Everyone thought he was better, that he had finally gotten past his deadly obsession. He may have looked better on the outside, yes, but on the in…

All lies.

**.**

**.**

**.**

A year had passed since the episode with the Brotherhood of Evil. Robin had kept a sharp eye out for Slade during the whole ordeal, thinking with a tinge of desperation that he _had to be there, _but he was sorely disappointed. Not even a glimpse of orange and black.

Robin was up late, as usual, going through old files about the Brotherhood, combing them for any evidence that he might have missed. He rubbed his masked eyes tiredly and yawned, resting his head against the back of the computer chair. His eyes closed and the folder fell into his lap. Just a few minutes…

Imagine his surprise (and secret joy) when the monitor lit up, displaying a map of the city, a point marked by a sharp, jagged black S in an orange circle. He almost didn't believe it. He spent a good three seconds staring at it in disbelief.

Without thinking, he shut the alarm off quickly, so as not to attract the other Titans, and exited the Tower silently, by himself.

It was a beautiful night. The sky was a clear dark blue, stars twinkling everywhere across the great expanse. A new moon lay nestled among the stars. Still slightly drowsy (he hadn't slept a wink in a couple days), dreams flickered on the edges of his vision, and he almost hit a Taxi once, distracted by the image of a spiked, dark eye slanted in a challenging stare. He shook his head to clear the wisps of dreams and re-adjusted his grip on the handlebars.

It was only when he was halfway to his destination that he realized what a stupid idea this was; going to meet Slade by himself. Yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Cold sweat was breaking out on his skin, and a smooth, dark voice crooned in his ear as he urged his R-cycle to go faster.

_Come to me, Robin._

_Come to your Master._

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Robin groaned in pain, almost earnestly, as his head throbbed. He felt dizzy and unwell.

By the time he entered the warehouse on Pier 42, he was shaking with frenzied excitement. It was dark inside, with spotlights illuminating a muscular and ominous man sitting calmly on his throne, watching with an unreadable expression in his eye as the boy staggered towards him, panting and unable to keep the crazed smile off his face as euphoria rose in him again.

Finally.

_Finally._

"Slade," he called out breathlessly, stumbling to a stop in front of the mastermind, swaying slightly. Slade narrowed his eye and leaned forward. "Robin, what a pleasant surprise…did you come alone?"

Common sense told him to lie, to say that his friends were right behind him, but he couldn't.

_He couldn't lie to his_ _master_.

"I-yes," he admitted.

Slade stood powerfully and cracked his neck. Robin's heartbeat quickened. Icy adrenalin poured in his veins. Anticipation made him shuffle his feet impatiently. _Come on, come on, I need to show you how much better I've gotten…_

"Come then, _apprentice_," Slade purred as he pulled out his Bo Staff from his utility belt and extended it to its full length. A thrill of delight rushed through Robin's body at the word. "Show me how much you've improved." Robin took a moment to drink in the voice, to let it wrap around him and reassure him that _yes, finally, oh yes, this was real!_

Robin attacked in a frenzy. The insane smile stayed on his face throughout the whole battle; he couldn't get it to leave. He knew Slade noticed this, and it was halfway through the fight when he asked casually, flipping to avoid Robin's kick, "Eager to see me, Robin?"

Robin paused, as did Slade.

"I…don't know. I think…yes…?" Dots were blooming across his wobbly vision. All he saw was Slade. _All that mattered was Slade_.

"It's only right," Slade told him in a comforting tone, "that the apprentice should long for his Master to be by his side."

Robin was too mentally sick to disapprove of himself as he nodded slowly in agreement. Slade's eye gleamed in triumph as he approached the teen slowly. Robin swayed for another second. His knees buckled out from underneath him and he collapsed face-up on the nice, cold ground.

Slade knelt beside him and slowly reached out a hand, grasping the corner of Robin's mask. Warning bells jingled in the back of the teen's head, but he ignored them, waiting breathlessly. Slowly, with thorough enjoyment, Slade peeled it off. It stung. Robin marveled at the pain and his eyes slipped closed from the bliss of it.

Fingers gently gripped his chin. Slade's index finger tapped Robin's temple twice. "Open your eyes, Robin," Slade urged him soothingly, "the apprentice should keep nothing from his Master."

His eyelids nearly shot open, he was so eager to please him, to get his approval. Slade looked deeply into the clouded azure blue eyes as they focused on him and knew that something in the boy had, at last, snapped. No matter. What had been broken could be fixed again.

The final test.

"Do you swear to serve me?" Slade whispered, holding Robin's wild gaze captive.

"Yes," he whispered, his heart pounding. The blue eyes pleaded with him to _take him back, to get it over with and let him wear his colors again._

"Do you swear to obey my every command?"

Robin licked his dry lips, suppressing a whine of eagerness. "Y-Yes." Couldn't this go any faster? Robin wanted to hear him say it, he wanted to be called Apprentice again…he wanted someone, _anyone,_ to be proud of him again, to fill the empty void the death of his father had left…

"Do you swear to always stand by my side?"

"Yes."

Slade pondered for a moment, then added, "Even if you must fight, _kill_, the Titans?"

Robin hesitated, and for the smallest second, Slade saw a flicker of the old Robin in the blue eyes, screaming and yelling and mouthing the word _'No!' _over and over again. But as he watched, the spark fizzed, then dimmed and died out

To Robin, it seemed that Slade's voice was penetrating his skin, going right to his heart and mind and soul, encompassing them in a suffocating grip. Every cell of his body screamed for him to say it. He had no chance at all fighting it. Slade had become embedded in his spirit, and the word formed on his lips with wonderful ease. His body went totally slack and submissive.

"_Yes_," he murmured calmly, his eyes slightly glazed.

Slade eyed his apprentice with satisfaction. "_Good boy."_

Robin shuddered in relief, incredibly thankful that his master had taken him back, even after everything he had done against him. The man straightened and helped Robin stand, seeing as he was still quite dizzy.

Robin was slipping in and out of his dreams now, and he was barely aware of Slade picking him up, one hand under the kneecaps and the other supporting his back, carrying him down a long hallway. Robin closed his eyes completely and listened to the steady heartbeat pulsing in the man's chest. The repetitive sound comforted him and he relaxed his body. He was stirred out of his doze when he felt Slade deposit him on a bed and affectionately muss up his hair.

"There's a change of clothes for you in the drawer," Slade whispered, and Robin nodded once, his eyelids fluttering, revealing glimpses of his dazed blue eyes.

"M'kay," Robin replied in a tone slurred with exhaustion, somehow managing to sit up and slide off the bed, stumbling over to the medium-sized mahogany drawer. Slade turned and left the room, wanting to give the boy his privacy.

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

One hour later, as William Wintergreen entered the main chamber, he glanced at the giant monitor displaying the boy asleep on his bed in his new room, wearing an orange shirt and black sweatpants, happily, _willingly_ wearing Slade's colors.

"I almost don't believe it," he murmured in awe, shaking his head as he handed Slade a cup of herbal tea.

"Neither can I," admitted Slade as he undid the clasps of his mask and let it fall into his hands, revealing a strong jaw, a trimmed goatee, and white, shaggy hair. A black eyepatch hid his empty right socket. He accepted the cup from his longtime friend and let it warm his fingers for a few seconds.

Wintergreen cast Slade an admiring look. "How did you do it, Slade? You were so secretive about the boy over all these years…"

Slade sipped his tea, inhaling the strong, relaxing aroma. "It was simple. All I had to do was find out that Robin had left Batman on bad terms." Catching Wintergreen's confused look, he continued, "Imagine, Will, that your parents had just died"-oh yes, he knew all about his little bird's past-"and a man took you in, practically raised you, taught you everything. You grew to love him like a father. Then, suddenly, you weren't good enough for him. Nothing you did was good enough."

He looked at the slumbering teen, at the peaceful look on his face. "The pain he must have felt, knowing that the man he considered his father had abandoned him. He was so eager to please. Didn't you notice that he always worked twice as hard as the other Titans? He was trying to catch his mentor's eye, show him that he _was_ good enough."

He took another sip of his drink. "The first step was distracting Robin from his mentor, get him to focus on me. I lured him in simply by paying him attention, by noticing him. If you had looked closely enough, you might have seen the slight satisfaction whenever I praised him. I gave him a thirst to be noticed. Of course, this was all in his subconscious. But I got him obsessed with me."

He paused to smile deviously. "And then I pretended to leave him. I went after Terra." He cast a glance at Wintergreen and shook his head. "If you could have seen the jealousy bristling in his posture whenever I ignored him in favor of the girl. Simply thrilling."

He suddenly turned bitter. "True, dying wasn't a part of my plan, but it worked out in the end. I must thank you for activating the dust while I was, ah, occupied. I hacked the cameras to get the recording."

A video popped up on the monitor's screen. Robin was shown, bleeding and beaten, curled up on the ground at the foot of the metal steps. The video paused and zoomed in on Robin's face, still HD clarity. Wintergreen nearly gaped as he saw the contented, slight smile on Robin's face as his blood pooled around his wounds.

"The dust is really the main reason the rest of this was possible. My greatest creation, I might even say. Some of the probes that entered his body from the first apprentice stunt managed to lodge themselves deeply in his brain, able to avoid detection, and therefore, eradication. When combined with the hallucinogenic dust, the main effect was an insatiable obsession with me. Slowly, the dust has twisted his mind, influenced his very thoughts and actions…he _belongs_ to me now, and he knows it. And best of all," Slade smirked victoriously, "he doesn't mind. He even _craves_ my presence."

Slade finished his tea and set the cup down on the saucer with a satisfied smile. Wintergreen stared at him in disbelief.

"All these years, all these crazy stunts you pulled in Jump, _just _to get the boy?" He sounded doubtful.

Slade looked at the live video of the sleeping teenager.

"Of course. There is no one else strong enough to endure my tutelage and carry on my empire. You know this."

Wintergreen slowly nodded in agreement.

"Wake Robin up early for training tomorrow, at five," Slade called after him as Wintergreen gathered up the empty cup and saucer and left the room. Wintergreen nodded to show that he had heard and slipped through the doorway.

Slade turned his eye back on the boy, watching him give a contented sigh in his sleep and relax completely into his bed, nestled under the covers. Slade smiled.

"I told you, didn't I?" He murmured to himself, lacing his fingers together and propping his chin on them.

"I _hate_ to lose, and _I never intended to_."

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

**All right, so obviously, this when was a bit darker than the first. And again, this one stems from Robin's subconscious need to have somebody proud of him. Also, when the combined dust and probes activated, the way he thought and felt was mutated, making him perfectly obsessed with Slade. **

**So, I have a request, which I will be doing for next chapter. I'm sorry this one-shot wasn't the one you wanted, DickGraysonFan, but I had this already typed up and figured I'd just post it really quick. Yours is next, I promise! Besides, this had Robin angst in it, right?**

**Remember, leave me requests in your reviews!**


	3. Not Alone

**Okay, so I am done with a couple of the requests. I've decided to finish all the requests before I start posting them. I felt bad about leaving you guys alone for a while, though, so I typed this up overnight and decided to post it. Ironically, this is my longest one-shot so far. -_-**

**Thank you for all the reviews for last chapter, and for the alerts and favs! Special thanks to: Guest, Aguna, Thaliag.2, DickGraysonFan, Sadie Aurora Night, StarscreamGirl, book phan44, and Toria-Neko for reviewing!**

**Request Line-up:**

**DickGraysonFan**

**Aguna**

**Sadie Aurora Night**

**Yorkiepudding.**

**Read and Review! **

_Day 7_

Robin was already sick of it. The same whitewashed walls, the squeaky clean linoleum floors, the harsh white fluorescent lights, the smiling nurses and doctors, the monotonous schedule…

The Titans had promised it would only be for a short while. Just a quick rest while he "recovered" from the hallucinations. They told him his head was a little bit sick right now and that he would probably be better in a few days.

It had been more than a few days.

He tried not to show it, really, he did, but when your worst nightmare is holding your arm behind your back in a chickenwing and slowly lifting the appendage beyond its limits, it's hard not to let out some exclamation of pain. Then the doctors would rush in, and Slade would vanish when they flicked on the lights, and they'd inject him, and tell him everything was going to be _juuuust_ fine.

He didn't know if it was the sedatives as they rushed through his bloodstream, or the doctors' words, but he always felt a little bit sick when they told him that.

.

.

.

_Day 15_

He had grown sickly and pale(r). He hated eating the food they served. It was the same, every day, for each breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He asked them once, in one of his clearer moments of sanity, if he could have something different. Something good. Like pizza. The nurse gave a tinkling laugh and affectionately mussed up his hair, her sharp, manicured nails grazing his scalp. Robin shied away from the contact.

"The diet you are on now has all the nutrients your growing body needs. And besides…" she said, eyeing his crinkled shirt and the deep bags beneath his haggard blue eyes (after all, he had checked in as Richard Grayson- they couldn't very well have _the_ Robin staying at a psychiatric center now, could they?) "Some monotony will do you loads of good!" Then she left the tray of food on his bed (there was no table. He amused himself by thinking they were afraid that he might bash his head against it until he killed himself) and left the room, locking the door behind her with a key card, as usual.

He was beginning to loathe this place. He loathed the shadows. He loathed the people, the walls that kept him in, the daily injections, _everything_ _about it._

The Titans visited him as often as they could. To keep his secret identity under wraps, they told the secretaries that he was one of the kids they had saved, and they liked to follow up with their fans.

He felt the most _awake_ when they came. Beast Boy would crack jokes and morph into a kitten and snooze lightly on his hammock (again, they suspected he might somehow hurt himself if he had an _actual_ bed with an _actual_ bed frame.) Starfire would give him a gentle hug, since his body was still ragged with injuries, because Slade was still a nightly occurrence. Raven would meditate with him, trying to improve his mental health and prevent him from seeing Slade in every scrap of shadow. It never worked later when the lights went out, even if Raven thought it might, but Robin enjoyed the period of companionable silence all the same. Cyborg would regale him with exciting tales of the team's achievements. Robin's feelings were secretly hurt by how well the team was doing without him. He was careful to never show it, though.

Even though they visited often, they couldn't always make it each day. He didn't blame them when they missed an appointment because of the crime rate in the city. Thugs and scum had noticed that Robin was missing and jumped at the chance, thinking Jump City was as good as theirs, now. They were wrong. Even without their leader, the Titans proved to be a formidable fighting force. Slowly but surely, under Cyborg and Raven's joint leadership, the team was pushing back the tide of villains.

…Robin only felt worse when he realized this.

.

.

.

_Day 30_

He had a relapse.

He'd been doing so well, too. Just that day, the overly cheerful nurse had informed him that he might be getting out soon if his health continued to improve at such an incredible rate. He'd been happy. He'd been so, _so_, happy.

_Slade_ hadn't been.

The second the nurse slid the door shut and locked it, and the automatic lights flicked off, the shadows bathing the room seemed to intensify. An ominous sense of foreboding swept over Robin and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. The air was still, silent. Waiting. The calm before the storm.

In fact, if he looked closer at the corner of his room, it was almost like…like he could see a figure manifesting itself out of tendrils of darkness…Robin felt his eyes widen, and he hastily stood up and made his way to his hammock, lying down with his head on the thin pillow and the scruffy blanket pulled up to his chest. His fingers clenched the cheap fabric tightly into fists, holding onto the ragged piece of cloth like it was his lifeline. His knuckles went white from the force of his grip.

The demon finished forming, Robin could sense it, he just _knew_ it.

_He's not real…he's not real…he's not real…_

Slow, heavy, deliberate footsteps tapped their way softly across the cold, tiled linoleum floor.

…_He's not real…he's n-not real…_

He could feel him there, lounging calmly against his wall by the hammock. He could feel the terrible eye boring into him relentlessly. He curled in slightly on himself, starting to feel sick.

_H-he's not…not…not…_

The hammock was struck suddenly, without warning, and it rocked so violently that it slipped right out from under him, leaving him to crash to the ground, landing painfully on his shoulder.

_Not…not…_

Something hard prodded his side- the tip of Slade's boot- then pulled away, only to come swinging back into his ribs, digging sharply into his flesh and lifting him into the air. His back slammed into the wall, knocking the breath right out of his lungs, and he slid limply to the floor, a strangled whimper sliding out from between his teeth, already resigned to his fate.

**"_My, my, how the mighty have fallen."_ **The voice whispered, smooth as silk, washing over him like a wave and drenching his very soul in heart-shaking, soul-crushing fear that drove any rational thought far from him.

He screamed.

…_Real. _

_So terribly,_

_utterly,_

_**real**._

.

.

.

_Day 34_

Bruce came to visit him today. Robin listened to him talk to the doctor, watched his intimidating shadow flicker across the frosted glass window, crisscrossed by thin wires, set in the door of his...room. Cell. Prison. Torture chamber.

"Absolutely no improvement?" Bruce's voice was disappointed, and…was that _grief_?

A heavy sigh. "We've tried everything, Mr. Wayne. The medicines haven't been working. Mental therapy seems to show improvement, but…he just falls apart at nighttime. I've never seen a case such as his." A note of greed, almost undetectable, slithered into the doctor's words. "Why, he might be experiencing something akin to the likes of the Joker!" Robin flinched and drew his legs up to his chest, burying his head in the space between his knees. He didn't want to be compared to that…that green-haired monster! "Imagine," the doctor continued zealously, "if we could work out his ailments, the meaning of his hallucinations…we mi-!" The words trailed off in sudden fear, and Robin imagined being on the receiving end of a point-blank bat-glare. He winced in sympathy, even though he absolutely hated the doctor's guts.

"I'm paying you to fix my ward, Dr. Redding, not pick apart his mind like some sick experiment."

Robin winced and began rocking very slowly back and forth. _Fix…like a broken toy that's outlived its use…_

A soft snicker vibrated from the corner of the dimly lit cell, and Robin whimpered in terror, squeezing his eyes shut, striving desperately to block out the poisonous voice.

A cold hand rested on his shoulder and he shuddered, wanting to throw it off but too afraid to do so. _"**You're useless to him. Just a mess he doesn't want to clean up," **_the whispered words slipped easily past his defenses, striking his heart like a battering ram.

"No…" Robin moaned, shaking his head slightly. "…Not true…"

The hand tightened its grip to a painful degree, the fingertips pressing hard into his flesh. **_"Oh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news…but I only want for you to see the truth. You are worthless to him. So terribly, utterly, __worthless__."_**

"No! Stop! Please, stop!" He jerked out of the grip, and scrambled towards the door, his throat aching from withheld sobs. Slade chuckled and drifted back to the dark corner of the room, melting into the shadows, his one eye fixed on his former apprentice.

The door flew open, and bright, harsh light flooded the room, tearing a piece from the heavy cloak of darkness. "Dick?" The voice of his mentor, his surrogate father, questioned in a shocked tone. Robin felt like crawling under a rock. He must look like such a failure.

"I…" He croaked ashamedly, tears building up in his eyes. He didn't know what to say. The nightmare stirred in the shadows, feeding on his guilt, and stepped forward, approaching the sharply dressed billionaire as the door swung shut behind him, enclosing the room in darkness. Barely any light trickled in from the rectangular glass window. Robin choked up, watching as Slade stood right in front of his father, his chin mockingly propped on his hand.

**"**_**This is the Batman?"** _He asked, sparing Robin a sidelong, disbelieving glance. **_"Why…I just might be able to snap his neck before he could even twitch in protest…"_** Robin stared, aghast, crouched on the floor like an animal. He was faintly aware of Bruce calling to him, stooping down to shake his limp shoulders…

**"_What do you think, Robin? Shall I strike him down here and now?" _**The black and orange clad figure inquired musingly, his arm, rippling with muscles, suspended above Bruce's exposed neck, the fingers flexing as they curled towards it.

"NO! STOP! LEAVE HIM ALONE, _PLEASE_!" Robin lunged forward, catching Bruce by surprise as he bowled him over, accidentally sending him spinning away. The billionaire's head smacked loudly against the wall and his body unwillingly relaxed, falling limply onto the floor. Robin, blinded by his panic, tackled Slade to the ground, straddling him with his knees as he brutally began slugging him across the face repeatedly.

"Don't-_crunch_-ever-_crunch-_touch-_crunch-_him!" The mask splintered under his relentless blows. Fragments of painted metal skidded across the floor, and his rival's face was revealed. Robin's face paled until he was as white as a ghost.

**"_It must kill you," _**Slade said, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards in a sardonic smirk, **_"to know that you are what you hate most."_** He threw his head back and laughed uproariously, and Robin could only watch in stunned silence, looking at his face- his_ own_ face!- plastered across his enemy's features.

Then- something was happening- Slade morphed into someone else. The sleek black jumpsuit lightened and transformed into a white lab coat, and the face- the horrible, laughing face!- rearranged itself into a man with a round jaw and small eyes. The fit and muscular body lost its stunning definition and became limp and plump. The black, spiked hair-Robin's hair- became a straggly brown that receded from its hairline. A shattered pair of glasses hung off one ear, and the large nose was twisted at a disgusting angle, spurting blood. Both of the doctor's squinty eyes were swelling, the surrounding skin beginning to discolor.

"No…" Robin whispered, letting go of the lapels of the doctor's collared lab coat, scrambling off the body and backpedaling until he hit the wall. He couldn't get enough air, even though his chest heaved for breath. "I-I would never…that's not…" Black spots swam in his vision, and it seemed like the floor and ceiling were constantly switching themselves. Nothing made any sense.

**"_Not what, Robin? Not real?"_** Slade materialized next to him and leaned casually against the wall, nonchalantly readjusting the plated metal guard strapped on his left arm. **_"I assure you, it is very real." _**He pushed off the wall and sauntered past the figure of Bruce propped against the farthest wall, just beginning to stir. Slade stooped over the heavily wounded doctor, pensively surveying the damage done to the poor man's face, his one eye somehow looking pleased. **_"I must say, though, you have a nasty right hook. Personally, I think his face looks better now than it did before. Well done."_**

By the time Bruce could stand without swaying and the blood trickling down his brow had begun to staunch, Robin was huddled in the corner of the room farthest from the door, his head clutched in his heads, rocking violently back and forth, sobbing out between shuddering breaths, "No, stop, leave me alone, please, leave me alone!"

Doctors and nurses streamed in, looking extremely panicked as they took in the scene. Dick had started beating his head against the wall, sobbing, while Bruce Wayne struggled to control him, calmly coaxing the boy to stop. The teen didn't listen. He thrashed in Bruce's arms.

"You have to go, he'll kill you! You don't get it, _he's going to kill you_!"

Two nurses lifted the heavily injured doctor on a stretcher and wheeled him out of the room while the rest of the group attempted to contain the raging kid. Three black eyes, one broken nose, and two dislocated shoulders later, Dick had finally been subdued enough to slip a sedative into his arm. The wild blue eyes grew dazed and hazy and the lids lowered halfway.

"Bruce…he…I-I can't fight him…too strong…" he mumbled as they strapped him in a stretcher. Bruce swallowed and took his ward's clammy hand, attempting to keep up his calm visage.

"It's okay, Dickie, it's okay, I'm here…You're safe, you're not alone…"

A twisted, ironic smile pulled at the corners of Dick's mouth and he chuckled weakly, ending it abruptly in a pain-filled cough.

"No," he rasped sadly as the doctors began pushing the stretcher, him on it, down the hallway, to the infirmary. "I'm not."

.

.

.

_Day 47_

They'd moved him into a padded room and put him in a straitjacket. They looked at him apathetically as he screamed in terror while they buckled him in the restricting fabric, telling him that he was a danger to himself and others and needed to learn self-control.

"No," he wept, tears trickling down his gaunt, haggard face. "Please, no. He'll kill me…"

They didn't listen. They thrust him in the room and shut the door. Dick (he no longer referred to himself as Robin. Robin was brave and strong. Dick was not) kicked it, screaming, until his feet throbbed so badly with pain that he couldn't take another step, and the skin on his heels had split, bleeding profusely. No one came to tend to him. No one _cared_ anymore. In the world's eyes, Dick was a lost cause. Bruce and the Titans had stopped visiting. The Titans claimed they were too busy and anyway, maybe next week, right? Bruce wasn't allowed to come anymore, because every time he visited, Dick had a fit.

Dick quietly suspected that Slade got possessive whenever Bruce visited, before he had been banned. As soon as the billionaire would take a step into the room, Slade stalked from the shadows and hovered around Dick's shoulder, glaring with a smoldering eye. Once, in the middle of the night, after a visit from Bruce, Slade had pinned the boy to the floor and snapped his ribs, one by one, until Robin cried out that Slade was his master. Only then was the sadist satisfied.

.

.

.

_Day 74_

They let him out of the straitjacket three times a day, twenty minutes at a time, to eat his food and use the restroom. He was allowed to shower three times a week. Then he was frog-marched back to the padded room, the straitjacket was re-applied, and Slade quietly drifted out of the shadows, glaring daggers at the nurses.

After the workers had left, Dick would sit down, resting his back against the cushy wall, and Slade would begin to talk. At first, Dick hated their (one-sided) "conversations." Slade would question his every belief, scoff at his retorts, verbally shoot down his comebacks. Eventually, Dick figured out it was easier to just sit still and silent and let Slade speak.

The unspoken rules were simple. If Dick said anything in defense, Slade would go off on a long, biting lecture. If Dick got so angry that he attempted to attack him, Slade would, undoubtedly, give him a beat-down until the doctors were forced to rush Dick to the medical bay.

Slowly, the time between beat-downs grew farther and farther apart as Dicklearned these rules, these absolute laws. Preservation is a part of the human nature. Dick, naturally, was tired of the hurt, so he went along with it, because it was simply less painful to do so. After a while, he started participating in the conversations. Slade was the only person he was constantly near, and…well…Dick just got so bored and _lonely_, sometimes.

He was, ever so slowly, adapting.

.

.

.

_Day 102_

It was getting harder to recall the Titans' faces. He could remember their color schemes, and their personalities, but, try as he might, he could not recall specific details- the exact intoxicating shade of Starfire's eyes, Cyborg's favorite type of meat, the name of the herbal tea Raven used to drink, or Beast Boy's favorite animal. They were fading.

Fast.

When he realized this, he had a panic attack, and even the sedatives could not calm him.

**"_Breathe! Robin, breathe, now!" _**Slade ordered angrily as he held the boy to the ground while the doctors buzzed around them, oblivious, freaking out because he wasn't falling asleep even though he was bristling with needles, like a pincushion. Dick shook his head, his torso heaving, his heartbeat stuttering and thumping erratically in his chest. His eyes roved wildly and claustrophobia began to set in. The straitjacket was too restricting, it hurt, he couldn't breathe, _he couldn't breathe!_

He bucked, throwing off the workers attempting to dog-pile him, and rolled on the ground, shrieking at the top of his lungs, "_Get it off, get it off! I can't breathe!"_

Slade grabbed him by his shoulder and threw him roughly against the wall, ignoring his cry of pain as the impact forced the needles to twist in his skin, trickling blood. **_"Robin!" _**He seethed, but the boy refused to look at him. Snorting, he gripped the teen's chin and jerked his head around, gazing deeply into his brilliant blue eyes. Immediately, Dick went limp, looking back at Slade unquestionably.

**"_Richard," _**he said, in a much softer, coaxing tone.** _"Calm. Down."_**

Dick gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod and forced his body to relax, one muscle at a time, taking deep breaths to steady his racing heartbeat. Slade released the teen and stepped back, looking at his former apprentice smugly, amazed that he could calm the boy down just by looking him in the eyes.

As soon as the adrenalin faded, the tranquilizers came into action and Dick was out like a light, sagging to the floor, while the nurses quickly pulled out the needles embedded in his skin and swabbed the areas with antibacterial cotton balls. They left as soon as they had accomplished this, each of them uneasy at the thought of staying near the schizophrenic teen any longer than necessary.

When Dick woke up, many, many hours later, he could barely remember who the Titans were.

.

.

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_Day 146_

**"_Good. Aim higher, you want the kick to strike my head, not my chest."_** Slade motioned to Dick's outstretched leg and then gestured to his masked face. Dick nodded, then spun on his heel and lashed out with his right leg. The kick was inches away from hitting the base of Slade's neck when the man's hand flashed up, catching the solid blow easily in his palm. He tightened his grip on the boy's ankle and brought the leg up a few inches, ignoring Dick's cry of protest as he hopped on one foot to retain balance. _"Higher."_

He let go of the leg and watched Dick take the stance again, preparing the blow. **_"You used to be able to do this; it's not impossible."_ **Slade added, noting the frustrated look on the teen's face.

"I know," Dick replied, jerking his head to flick the hair out of his eyes. "But I'm not nearly as strong as I used to be."

Slade eyed him sternly. **_"And who's fault was that? I recall explicitly telling you that if you want to keep up your strength and escape, you must nurse yourself back to health."_**

Dick huffed in agreement. "And it's not like the doctors are gonna help me do it, either. They just want me to rot away in this cell forever."

Slade dipped his head in acknowledgement. **_"Indeed."_**

Dick practiced all his kicks under Slade's watchful eye, occasionally stopping when Slade drifted out of the darkness to correct a stance or give advice. Dick was panting heavily by the time he stopped to take a break, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He scowled when he realized that he could not wipe the moisture away due to his arms being tightly tied up in the straitjacket. Throwing away any remnants left of his shattered pride, he rubbed his face along the cushioned wall to remove the sweat.

"How much longer?" He asked, sliding down the walls with a tired sigh, splaying his legs out wide in front of him. Slade sat down next to him with a sigh, copying his posture.

**"_Depends on how fast you can regain your strength."_**

"Great…so…another few months, then?"

**"_Most likely."_**

Dick groaned and thunked his head against the wall repeatedly, despaired. He hated the straitjacket, he hated the nurses, he hated everything and everyone. Well, except Slade. But that was only because he'd struck a deal with him: if the psycho helped him escape, then he would become his apprentice once more.

Before Dick had been shamelessly kicked to the curb, he would have been revolted at such an offer. That was when he had been Robin. That was when he had actually cared about morals and _friends._

The door to his cell suddenly swung open with a mechanized hum. Slade let out an annoyed hiss before he dissipated, dissolving in the warm light flooding the room from the hallway.

Dick threw his head to the side, squeezing his burning eyes shut. "Ack! Too bright!"

"Sorry deary," the nurse said, peeking into the room with a wary smile plastered across her face. "But the Titans are here to see you!"

Obviously, she expected smiles, laughs, signs of happiness. Dick stared at her blankly.

"…Who?"

"The Titans, silly! Your friends!"

_I don't have any friends, _he thought, puzzled, before standing up with the help of the wall. He allowed the nurse to lead him from his room, dismissing the two guards that accompanied them without a second thought. They were nothing. As they traveled down the long, narrow hallway, Dick memorized the position of the security cameras and their angles, tucking the information away for Slade to ponder through later.

He was so involved in his task that he almost bumped into the nurse when she stopped outside one of the doors. A plaque labeled 'MEETING ROOM' was bolted to the door. She swiped the key card around her neck on the electronic lock and pushed the door open, moving aside so Robin could walk in. The guards followed him and guided him to a standard, plain blue couch that fit three people. He sat down cautiously in the middle seat. The cushions were hard and not very comfortable. He could almost feel the springs.

In front of him was a brown, oval-shaped coffee table, and across from that, a bigger cough, where four teens sat, eyeing him in varied looks of surprise. The biggest one, a cybernetic teen, gave the two guards stationed by the ends of Dick's couch a look.

"Some privacy, please…?" He asked. The guards stiffened.

"We were given orders to remain in the room in case Patient 42 has a breakdown."

Dick winced. Great. Now he must seem pathetic. The smallest teen, one with green skin and elf ears, bragged, "Dudes. He'll be fine. He's with friends."

There they went with that word again. _Friends. _

The guards exchanged looks, then nodded and left the room. An awkward silence fell over the room as the four people stared at him. Dick sighed and sat back, surveying them through slightly narrowed eyes. _"Always observe your enemies before making any kind of action against or towards them," _Slade's advice rang in his ears.

"So…uh…how you been, man?" The cybernetic one asked sheepishly. Dick didn't reply, he merely narrowed his eyes even further and pursed his lips.

"Look, we know we haven't been to visit in a long, long, time, but…you know, the city was more important, and- ouch! The heck, Rae?"

The girl in the blue cloak rolled her eyes. "Gar. Shut up."

"Sorry."

"I am…pleased to see you, friend Robin." The red-haired girl ventured timidly, playing with her fingers and not meeting his hard gaze. "I-"

"I'm not Robin," Dick interrupted, looking at them strangely. "And who are you?"

Four jaws dropped.

"I don't- this is- what?" The cybernetic one babbled. Dick sighed and closed his eyes, wishing Slade was there. He always had a dry sense of witty humor that made drab situations like this more bearable.

"Can I go back now? I have nothing to say to you." He dismissed them condescendingly, standing up to leave. Although, he felt, in the back of his mind, that he should remember them…he winced as a bolt of pain lanced through his temples, and his body stiffened. Slade's presence suddenly washed over him like a cool, refreshing wave, and he relaxed gradually.

_I don't know them. They say they know me. Slade, what do I do? _He questioned, watching with wariness as the cloaked one suddenly flinched and grabbed her head, giving him a surprised look.

**"_They do know you, Dick. They are the ones who put you in here in the first place," _**Slade's voice whispered in his ear. Dick's eyes widened and he bristled angrily. _What? _He clenched his fists so hard they shook. _All the drugs…the straitjacket…the padded cell…all because of __**them**__?_

He sort of felt Slade nod, even though he wasn't in the room with him due to the bright lighting.

Dick gritted his teeth and looked each of the Titans directly in the eye. "I may have known you at some point, but I don't anymore. I don't care. You're all the reason I'm stuck in this prison! I _hate_ you!"

They all recoiled as if they'd been struck. Slade was obviously quite pleased. Robin could almost feel him smiling under his mask.

"Robin, cal-"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" He went down on his knees, clutching his head as pressure continued to build behind his eyes. A groan escaped his lips. He heard the Titans stand up abruptly and approach him.

"Stay away from me!" He flipped on his back and scrabbled backwards.

"I told you he was insane!" Dick heard the cybernetic teen scold the others, and he flinched.

_Insane. I-I'm not insane…_

**"_No, you're not." _**Slade reassured him, and Dick felt relieved. Still, he was alone. He didn't want to be alone. _Slade, I can't do this by myself. _

**"_Turn off the lights and I'll be there."_**

Dick leapt to his feet and barreled towards the door, tuning out the Titans' cry of surprise. He rammed the light switch with his shoulder. Immediately, the room was plunged into darkness.

Slade formed out of the shadows and strode over to where Robin knelt, shaking. He placed a hand on the teen's shoulder and crouched beside him.

**"_Breathe, Dick. Breathe. I'm here."_**

Dick obeyed immediately, silently rejoicing that he wasn't alone, _he wasn't alone, he wasn't alo-_

Suddenly, a pulsating green light flared, engulfing the red-haired girl's clenched fist as she held it up in the air. The eerie green glow cast over her face made her appear almost demonic.

"Ro- Dick? I thought you did not like the dark. You told us Slade was in the dark." She said, looking faintly surprised. A second light flicked into existence; the cybernetic teen had extended a sort of flashlight from his broad metallic shoulder. Dick flinched as the LED beam swept over him.

"Dude?"

"Dick?"

"Someone call the guards in."

Slade stayed with him, glaring at the Titans, as the two workers entered the room and roughly hoisted Dick to his feet, pulling him out the door and back to his cell.

Slade walked alongside him, staying in the shadow of the guards. **_"Did you memorize the layout of the hallways and security cameras?" _**He asked conversationally, as if Dick wasn't being dragged forcefully away from the room. Dick didn't fight them, but he didn't help them either.

Dick grinned. "Yup. I think I got 'em all." The guards looked at him weirdly. Dick chuckled at their faces. Their expressions were just so funny. In fact, his whole situation was funny. Hilarious, even. His laughs grew wilder and louder, until they almost resembled howls. Tears pricked in his eyes as he bent over, helpless, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

Shivers rolled down the spines of the guards.

"_Hahahaha_, you know, they're the ones who put me in here! _Hahahaha_, you should lock them up too, and put them in- _hahahaha!-_ straitjackets!" His gleeful exclamations echoed down the hallway, to where the Titans stood, watching his receding figure.

Starfire shuddered and rubbed her arms. "I fear his mind is gone for good."

Beast Boy's ears drooped. "You think it's our fault? You saw the straitjacket. Ro- Dick always liked to move around. Maybe it was being locked up that drove him to this."

Cyborg shook his head resolutely.

"Naw, man, don't you remember when he was still…you know…" he lowered his voice. "…Robin? He was always so obsessed and angry all the time…the reagent in Slade's mask just…I don't know…snapped the last string, I guess."

"Even so, I sense something darker in him, now." Raven added quietly, her signature deadpan breaking slightly in worry. "It was almost like…like he'd _accepted_ Slade."

"Ro- Dick would never!" Starfire cried out weakly, feeling very lost and confused and sad.

Cyborg looked at her stiffly. "That's not the guy we used to know, Star. You- we all- need to get over it and move on." Seeing his teammates wince in unison, he added hastily, to soften his last sentence, "It's what Robin would have wanted."

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

**Okay, so this is my longest one so far. I've seen a lot of fics and one-shots where Robin was driven insane by the hallucinogenic dust in "Haunted" and figured I'd do my own sort of AU.**

**Okay, so, in this one, the dust sort of mutated itself until Slade became more of a mentor to Robin instead of a relentless sadist. He's still the kick-butt bad guy we all know and love. **

**This was not slash, btw. This was more of a fatherly take on Slade, in which Robin builds up a dependency on him.**

**After I finish doing all your requests, which I _am_ working on, I'm thinking of continuing this one-shot. **


	4. Punishment

**Okay, I just watched Haunted again. O.O Wow. I couldn't get the fact out of my head that Robin pretty much begged Slade to stop, and I thought to myself, okay, what if Slade was actually real?**

**Yes, I know this doesn't fit in the cartoon's continuity. So sue me. **

**Okay, I've got like, half of the requests done, but you guys won't hear from me for a while after this, because I'm leaving on a long vacation. When I get back, I'll finish the rest and post them. **

**Special thanks to: book phan44, Sadie Aurora Night, DickGraysonFan, Thaliag.2, and Hallo'sEve for reviewing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own it, and I don't write slash. Have a nice day.**

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

"Slade…stop…" His voice cracked harshly out of desperation in the middle of his plea. The two simple words bubbled up in his heart, clawing at his throat and scraping his parched tongue as they fought to escape his mouth.

He had never been in so much pain before. He was positive that numerous ribs were broken, or at least splintered, and his wrist was definitely fractured. Flares of supernova pain rolled up his arm if he even attempted to twitch the fingers.

A dark, sadistic chuckle resonated through the basement. Robin failed to suppress a shudder of ice-cold fear as the man of his nightmares emerged from the darkness. His steel-toed combat boots should have scraped along the metal flooring, but no sound was made as he stalked towards the teen crumpled on the ground, holding onto the edge of the bottom stair as if his life depended on it.

"Reduced to begging, Robin? How pitiful," Slade remarked casually, kneeling next to the teen. Robin attempted to push himself up to a more dignified position, but his limbs shook like jello and he collapsed on the floor, groaning, a trickle of blood trailing out of his mouth.

_Begging._

_**Begging.**_

Never in Robin's worst nightmares had he envisioned himself pleading with Slade.

Slade slowly reached out, his gloved fingers splayed out wide apart. Robin watched, helpless, as Slade gripped his chin and tilted his head back, forcing him to look directly into the terrible, horrible gray eye.

"You know…" he mused quietly, as if to himself, "your…_apprenticeship _never really came to a formal end…"

Robin's good eye, the one not swelled shut, widened. "_Nooo_…" A half moan, half whimper of protest shook his entire body. His heartbeat stuttered in his chest.

_Not…_

_Not again…_

Slade tilted his head. "Yes, Robin. Your friends may have found a way to, ah, delay the inevitable, for the time being…but as I stated previously, this apprenticeship can last forever…and it will."

Robin turned his head away, grunting in agony as he attempted to roll over. The pressure applied to his chest made him scream out in agony and he froze, wrapping his arms around his torso, aflame with pain, defensively curling up.

Slade _tsked_. He straightened to his full intimidating height, his arms crossed. "I told you, Robin, that any disobedience would be punished accordingly. You should have heeded my warnings." He brought his foot slamming into Robin's side. The cruel blow sent him skidding across the smooth, chilled floor, and he screamed again as his injured ribs were jarred roughly. Tears formed in his eyes. He didn't know how was still conscious. He wanted so badly to pass out…

His good eye closed and he wavered between unconsciousness and awareness. His body relaxed unwillingly. The pain of the bruises and broken bones seemed to dull slightly, and he sighed. Warm, metallic blood filled his mouth with the taste of pennies.

Slade grasped a handful of his uniform and bodily hoisted him into the air. Robin's head rolled back, his neck lacking the strength needed to hold it erect.

He was totally helpless.

Slade slammed him against the wall. An awful crack split the air and Robin sucked in a painful breath. It hurt to breathe. His chest ached. _Another…another rib broken…_

Slade smashed him against the wall again. The back of Robin's head smacked against the metal. Vertigo overtook him. He felt like he was spinning. Nausea rolled in his stomach. His good hand instinctually rose to rub the throbbing spot on his skull. Slade gripped it hard, halting its journey, and jerked it in the wrong direction. Another disgusting series of pops and cracks staccato'd the air and Robin moaned, the sound slowly climbing upwards to a bloodcurdling scream as Slade slowly twisted harder, completely snapping and crushing the hand and finger bones. The man let go abruptly and nearly threw the useless appendage back down at Robin's side.

Robin took quick, short breaths, shaking with exhaustion, pain, and fear. He just wanted this nightmare to end…

As if sensing his thoughts, Slade removed his hand from Robin's ragged, torn and bloodied tunic. He watched as Robin's legs immediately buckled. The teen fell sideways onto the floor, landing on his back. The impact punched the air from his lungs and he opened his mouth in a wide _o_, struggling to breathe through the agony of his snapped ribs.

Stars exploded in front of his eyelids and he passed out, both eyes closing. His chest heaved one last gusty sigh, as if regretfully finalizing his imminent defeat. With surprising gentleness, Slade knelt and tenderly gathered the teen's limp body up in his arms, supporting his back and knees. Robin let out a moan, and his eyelids fluttered underneath his mask. Slade paused, then shifted his grip on the boy and slowly ripped off the black and white fabric.

One eye was completely swollen shut. The skin was rapidly darkening to an ugly puce. A rebellious tear of pain seeped out from underneath the closed eyelid, trickling down the boy's face. Slade casually brushed it away, flicking it off his thumb with his index finger. Robin took in a shuddering breath as his senses returned to him. Slade watched hungrily as the teen's good eye fluttered open.

Blue.

His eyes were a stunning, brilliant shade of sapphire blue. They were elegantly angled, framed by long black eyelashes, and not too far apart or close together. The dilated black pupil focused on him, and Slade watched the hazy flicker of pain and recognition swimming in that azure pool. Slade held up the limp, thin mask, waving it in Robin's vision. The teen forgot to breath for a second as he fixated on the black and white shape. Slade enjoyed watching the emotions openly passing over his eyes.

He was ever so easy to read…

"No…" The teen gasped, and then spiraled into a fit of coughs. More blood bubbled in up in his mouth and he gurgled, choking. Slade frowned and adjusted his arm to prop up Robin's head. The blood sloshed past Robin's lips and flowed down his chin.

Robin looked at him one last time. Exhaustion- mental, emotional, and physical, weighed down his good eyelid. He drew in a shaky breath and whispered, "I can't…I-I can't…" Defeat drenched the words, dripping sorrow. _I can't take it anymore. _An agonized sob vibrated in his chest, bring a fresh wave of white-hot pain.

Slade pulled the trembling boy closer to his chest and dropped the mask, crushing it underneath his booted foot. "Shh," he murmured soothingly, like the way he used to talk to a seven-year old Grant whenever he had a nightmare. He gingerly brushed the sweaty locks of hair out of the boy's cobalt eyes. "It's all right. The punishment is over."

Relief glowed in the stunning iris and the eyelid slowly closed. Robin's body went slack in his arms, his head falling against Slade's broad chest. Slade clutched him tighter and looked down at the unconscious teen, slightly relieved that the boy had finally given up. He doubted that the teen would have survived if he took the beating any further.

As it were, Robin's injuries were severe and required immediate medical attention if he didn't want to suffer lasting damage. Blood flowed freely from his many wounds, forming drips that splashed quietly to the floor with rhythmic _plinks_.

The door at the top of the flight of stairs suddenly dented and burst off the hinges, flipping and skidding down the stairs with a loud metallic screech. Slade looked back calmly. Starfire raced down the steps, her fiery hair streaming out behind her, her eyes ablaze with concern.

"Robin!" She yelled out frantically. Her eyes caught sight of Slade holding him and she gasped in horror, covering her mouth with both hands. The rest of the Titans weren't far behind her. They caught up to the alien girl quickly.

"Dude…" Beast Boy stated in awed shock, taking a step back out of surprise. "He's real?"

Slade shifted the small cloaking device strapped to his wrist that allowed for short-range teleportation and temporary invisibility, preparing to press the button as he stared up at the Titans coldly.

"The lack of faith you have in your _former_ leader is quite stunning," he observed coolly. "And as much as I would love to stay and chat…I have an apprentice to train."

He clicked the trigger with his thumb and vanished, taking Robin along with him.

_**_-:;(-);:-_**_

**For those not aware, Grant is Slade's dead son. Yeah. **

**I always did want to do a darker, one-sided father/son one-shot between Slade and Robin...**

**R&R!**


	5. Storm

**Heh heh... hey guys. Remember me? *dodges rotten tomato* I'm sorry! I warned you, didn't I, that I'm a sporadic updater? And in my defense, I had this chapter all typed out, but then my laptop, being the troll that it is, deleted the file, and I sort of lost inspiration at the thought of typing it all up again.**

**But here I am, with an update. :)**

**Special appreciation to: book phan44, DickGraysonFan, Sadie Aurora Night, Thaliag.2, When Dreams Become Reality, Sparrow-DawnUNITE. **

**For all you silent readers out there, the ones who favorite and follow but don't comment (sigh) I see you too! Thanks to all of you!**

**So... DickGraysonFan... why yes, indeed, this is finally, your request. :D**

**Oh, and thanks to Sadie Aurora Night and Sparrow-DawnUNITE who are the main sources of inspiration for me. I love you guys. :)**

**0000000000**

Blood was flowing from a gash on his cheek, caused by one of Slade's sharp-edged discs. It stung like crazy, but Robin ignored it.

His other wounds were much more grievous than a mere scratch, anyway.

His entire body pulsed with exhaustion and achy pain. His foot was sprained (oh great) and his left wrist was definitely at least fractured (it just keeps getting better.) Two of his ribs were cracked, one broken. Slade had sent a quick, forceful blow to one of his pressure points and suddenly, his left arm was numb and rendered totally useless, like it had fallen asleep. He couldn't see out of his right eye.

Huh.

He was basically blind in his right eye at the moment.

Just like Slade.

He turned his head to the side, spat out blood. Its metallic, coppery taste filled his mouth again and he coughed, burning in humiliation as it dribbled out of his mouth, dripping down his chin.

A scowl pulled his lips, stained red by his blood, back in a frustrated, soundless snarl. This was so aggravating. Would he ever beat him?

A dark, oily smooth voice spoke from the shadows. "Well, Robin…I admit you put up a better fight than usual…but this is going to end the way it always does. With you lying at my feet until your little friends burst in here, hmm? Correct me if I'm wrong."

He gritted his teeth. His tongue was constantly writhing in his mouth, attempting to scrub away the horrible copper taste. He had to physically force it to still before he could form the words he required.

"I can beat you on my own!"

He hated this. He hated being weak. He wanted to learn how to fight more efficiently so that his skills could increase, but it seemed like Slade was the only one offering tutelage, and that was a big, definite no-no. Especially after the whole 'apprentice' ordeal.

He hated this man. He hated this man so much.

The hair on the back of his neck rose suddenly, and he forced his body to roll to the side, narrowly avoiding Slade's big, steel-toed combat boot crunching into the ground where his chest had been. He withheld a cry of pain as his injured ribs burned. He could only hope that one hadn't punctured his lung. That would be very bad.

Slade spun on his heel and launched his foot into Robin's side. Robin skidded and bounced along the ground, grunting every time his body was jolted. He slid to a stop. Coughed out more blood.

Dang. This _was_ getting bad.

He pushed himself until he was in a standing position, drawing his arms up in an admittedly defiant stance. Slade stood ten feet away, his arms crossed casually across his broad chest. His one eye gleamed.

"Honestly, Robin, I don't know why you even try anymore… you'll never defeat me… you never could, and you never will…"

"Shut up!"

Slade's stance tightened in anger at the blatant display of disrespect, but he maintained a calm semblance. "No, Robin… I won't… not since I seem to be the only one able to pound some sense into your head…"

Robin was trembling with helpless rage and indignation. Okay, he was ready for the Titans to come now. He cursed himself in his head. He shouldn't have run off from the main fight like that. What a stupid thing to do… it seems he always did stupid things around Slade….

Gah. He wiped more blood from his chin.

Slade began to approach him, his leisurely walk building into a pounding run… Robin tensed, holding back a flinch, keenly aware of the fact that he was about to be used as Slade's punching bag…

Black, shimmering tendrils wrapped gently around his chest, lifting him into the air, out of Slade's reach. His concealed eyes widened temporarily in surprise for a second, then he struggled to suppress a grin. He was going to have to thank her later. The triumphant smile turned thoughtful. Raven had been there for him a lot lately, hadn't she? Starfire had been acting rather cool towards him after the 'Red X' stunt. Not that he couldn't blame her for it, but still, he sort of missed having someone to talk to. Then Raven had showed up once while he was watching the sunrise, and they had sat together, quietly talking about random, aimless things. She was always calm, always giving him advice and insight to her own thoughts about things… she had really become his confidant, huh?

A black raven slid fluidly from the ground, its ominous form assembling itself into the shape of a hooded teenage girl, and Robin turned his attention back down below. The writhing black mass solidified and color bled into the silhouette. Raven scowled deeply at Slade, who still looked unruffled by her sudden appearance. Slade tipped his head to the side, eyeing her slender form with his calculating eye.

"I was expecting the naïve alien… so this is some sort of surprise, I admit…"

Slade shifted slightly to look up at Robin, still suspended high above them. "Starfire abandoned you, has she? I did warn you that everyone would turn on you, didn't I? They don't understand you…"

Raven unexpectedly lifted her arm and her palms glowed. A few crates in the corner became enveloped in her magic and lifted into the air. With a violent sweeping motion, she threw her arm to the side, slashing the air. The crates followed her command and hurtled towards the masked mercenary. He jumped over one, vaulted off the other, and twisted in midair to narrowly dodge the last. But Raven was ready. She raised both hands.

"_Azarath, Metrion, ZINTHOS!"_

The concrete floor bucked wildly around Slade as he landed, throwing him slightly off-balance, and thick slabs of rock were torn from the ground by her powers, raising upwards to form a sort of earth tent around the criminal, trapping him.

Raven turned her attention to Robin and lowered him back to the ground. He gave her a curious glance.

"And… why haven't we ever done that before…?"

Raven shrugged. "I don't know. It never occurred to me until just now."

They heard the faint sound of metal rasping on stone from inside the concrete prison. A red laser beam suddenly burned through the bottom of one of the slabs, cutting it off from the ground. It toppled easily and Slade stepped out, nonplussed. He idly spun the advanced weaponry held in his hand.

"Is that all you can do, Raven? Frankly, I'm a little disappointed…"

Robin couldn't be sure, but it seemed like she rolled her eyes under her hood at his comment. She raised her hands again, but Slade threw down a few small silver spheres. They hit the ground and bounced, spraying out inky-black, billowing smoke that quickly reduced visibility to zero. Robin coughed, splatters of blood flecking the floor. A dark vortex formed in the room, sucking in the smoke and slowly clearing the air.

Raven lowered her hands when the irritating substance was gone, looking around. Her suspicions were confirmed. Slade was gone. Like usual.

Without missing a beat, she turned and helped Robin stand, her violet eyes trailing over his lithe, muscular form, observing his wounds.

"Let's go home…"

She teleported them both in a swirl of black energy.

0000000000

"Lean back."

"I'm fine, honestly!"

She fixed him with her dark, unwavering glare. A shudder rolled down his spine as her eyes seemingly gazed into his soul.

He lay down.

She nodded in approval of his actions and concentrated for a second, alighting her hands with fizzing, light-blue energy. She placed them on his chest, blushing ever so slightly as she felt the toned, solid muscle underneath his tunic.

She brushed her feelings aside (they would never come to fruition, anyway) and focused on healing his tattered body.

Still…

Underneath her cool, nimble fingers, his ribs mended, torn sinew and flesh weaved together, and blood cells replenished themselves. A healthy flush appeared in his cheeks and he let out a relieved sigh as she shifted to behind him, trailing her glowing hands across his lower back to heal the ugly puce bruise in the very clear shape of a large combat boot. She swore inwardly that the next time she saw Slade, she would grab him by his ankles with her magic and throw him off the tallest building she could find. Then she'd collect the battered remains and incinerate them to ashes, and then throw his scattered dust into the ocean during a violent storm. She felt her eyes flash crimson and winced, swallowing and breathing deeply through her nose. Starfire and the others hovered in the distance, looking on as she tended to the injured Boy Wonder. Starfire bit her perfect nails nervously.

"He will be all right, yes?"

Raven mentally groaned at her annoying peskiness. The bubbly alien had already asked her this twice.

"Yes…like I've told you before. He. Will. Be. Fine."

Robin detected the impatient undertone to her words and hid a smile.

"Oh. What glorious news!"

Beast Boy shifted on his feet uneasily. "Like you care," he muttered, looking away. "You're the only one out of all of us still holding a grudge about the Red X thingie."

Starfire sent him a haughty glance, sniffed, and exited the room. Robin sighed, rubbing his upper arms uneasily.

"She's still mad?"

Beast Boy nodded. "She's still mad."

Cyborg rolled his human eye. "Never knew the girl could hold such a grudge."

Raven bit her lip harder to keep from adding to the conversation. In her head, Spite, Envy, and Anger stirred, listening attentively, waiting for a chance to take over and direct her words and actions. Raven shoved them, hard, to the back of her head. She had enough problems.

She looked up, noticing that at some point during her musings, Cyborg and Beast Boy had left, leaving just her and Robin together. She became aware of the rain drumming harshly against the Tower's rooftop and the thunder rolling in the churning heavens.

Robin sighed, rolling his shoulders to alleviate the soreness, and Raven gulped again as she felt his lean muscles roll under his skin. She stepped back quickly, shaking her fingers slightly to disperse the glow.

"It's done," she informed him quickly, quickly striding to the door, intending to head to her room for some peace and solitude where she didn't have to think of her deep, horribly real crush on a certain Titan.

"Raven," Robin said, watching her retreating form. Before he could say another word, however, thunder suddenly crashed, and a bolt flashed across the sky like white fire. Even the Tower, build to withstand earthquakes and large stormy waves, shuddered slightly.

Then the power failed.

The Tower hummed once, then all the lights flickered and died. Raven stumbled slightly, disoriented by the sudden shift in light.

"Raven? You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth. Love squealed in her head, clapping her hands. _Like, it's just you and him. In the dark. During a storm. How romantic!_ Love gave a satisfied, swooning sigh, and Happiness giggled. Raven clapped her hands to her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

_Shut up!_

"Raven?" Calloused, warm fingers gently pulled her hands from her head. She gave a small start. She hadn't even heard him move. "Are you okay?"

She gave a tight, exasperated sigh. "I already said I'm fine, Robin." The name rolled off her tongue so easily.

He moved around her and crouched by the door, fiddling with the door's control panel. She waited patiently, uncomfortably twisting her fingers together. After a minute, he gave a sigh and ran a hand through his black spiky locks.

"No use. It's in emergency lockdown."

He turned to her.

"Can you pha-"

He froze as another clap of thunder exploded in the sky and the brief, stunningly bright flash illuminated Raven's slender, curvaceous form from behind. Somehow, her cloak had loosened slightly, draping off one shoulder.

He swallowed.

A small glow of happiness bubbled in her chest at the awestruck expression on his face, before she turned away, sitting down on one of the medical beds in a cross-legged position. Mischievous suddenly reared her head, and before Raven could stop herself, words tumbled from her tongue, spoken in a soft, slightly seductive whisper, "What was that, Robin? I couldn't quite hear you."

He was glad it was dark. Hopefully she couldn't see the heated blush on his face.

"I-um-never mind."

He didn't really mind the dark, anyway. Or Raven's company. He sat down next to her.

They didn't talk. It wasn't needed. He liked that about her. They could sit in companionable silence, one sincere and meaningful, without wasting breath on pointless small talk. Starfire was constantly moving, always talking, her smile blinding everything in the room.

He shifted slightly to face her dim outline. "Raven, I-"

More thunder, the loudest peal so far. She jumped, accidentally tumbling right into his lap. She lay still for a second as the light faded from the sky, then thrashed, struggling to sit up, stammering helplessly. How out of character for her. She wasn't usually like this, honestly!

She froze as his cool, gloveless hand gently tugged her back down, adjusting her head in his lap. She couldn't breath. Her emotions were throwing a party in her mind.

"Why don't- why don't we just stay like this?" He stuttered, gesturing at their position, mentally kicking his own butt. Why was he so awkward?

Raven blinked once, twice, then gave a shrug and nodded. Let the chips fall where they may. She would deal with her emotions later.

"Okay."

They were silent, both watching the raging storm outside. Eventually, however, the time between lightning strikes became further and further apart, and the beating downpour softened to a light drizzle. It was actually quite peaceful. The small amount of silver light that filtered through the glass wall added a peaceful, comfortable atmosphere to the room, and Raven found herself nodding off, lulled by the background sound of rain, darkness of the medical bay, and Robin's slow, constant breathing. Her eyelids lowered and hazed over, and felt herself begin to slip into dreamland, when Robin slowly pulled her up, leaning against the headboard with her held in his arms. She smiled faintly and nuzzled his chest.

Star would be upset if she knew about this.

Raven honestly couldn't bring herself to care at the moment.

Robin's soothing hold was so comforting…

As the last vestiges of wakefulness slipped from her, she felt a soft pair of lips graze her smooth forehead. Fingers combed through her hair.

"Thanks, Rae. For everything." He sounded so sincere, so honest. It was one of the rare, exquisite moments when he opened up and said how he felt.

She wanted to wake up right then, really, she did, but her emotions had exploded and she let them drag her into Nevermore to discuss everything that had taken place.

**0000000000**

**Oh man. I stink at romance. I'm sorry if the horrible cheesiness of this chapter burned any of your eyes. Good news is I think I may have sort of turned myself into a Robrae fan while writing this. **

**ALSO, PLEASE DO NOT ASK ME TO WRITE ONE-SHOTS WHERE ROMANCE IS THE MAIN POINT! DickGraysonFan was the only exception because she (he?) was the second one to review my story and give me a request. **

**Request Line-up:**

**Aguna**

**Sadie Aurora Night**

**YorkiePudding**

**Drop me a line and review, people! I feel like I make new friendships with every person who reviews, and I like making friends! :)**


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